


Gli occhi sono lo specchio dell'anima

by bjrit92



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:02:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/869892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjrit92/pseuds/bjrit92
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson has a soul; it appears in every move John makes, every breath, every word he speaks. It is the most exquisite soul any person could possess. If John's soul were to take physical shape, it would be light. If a soul were to take physical shape, it would be John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gli occhi sono lo specchio dell'anima

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Eyes are the Window to the Soul
> 
> Disclaimer: Do Not Own.

The eyes are the window to the soul, or so they say. That is assuming everyone has a soul. Sherlock remains unsure of this fact regarding himself. He is a machine: a heartless, emotionless brain. He is a living computer, a breathing hunk of metal with no regard to those around him and no interest in anything besides stimulating his intellect and increasing his hard drive. What need have he of a soul? John Watson. John Watson has a soul, of this Sherlock is sure. He drowns in it every time those deep brown eyes are locked with his. When John brings him tea from the kitchen. After Sherlock has made a deduction at a crime scene that earned an awed "brilliant" from their owner. In post-coital bliss when their pupils are blown so wide Sherlock fears he will fall into them. John Watson has a soul; it appears in every move John makes, every breath, every word he speaks. It is the most exquisite soul any person could possess. It is the peak of all souls in the world, the highest of the high and greatest of the great. Sherlock wishes he believed himself to have a soul, if only to be slightly more human, closer to John, more worthy of such a unique being. How could such a pure spirit find love in a heartless machine? I've been reliably informed I do not have one. Is possessing a heart synonymous with possessing a soul? We both know that isn't quite true. It hurts. It beats. It yearns. John. John. John. The thumps chant his name as Sherlock is overtaken by the sight of beauty his eyes behold. Skin on skin, sweat mingling with sweat and heat and passion. Is this what it is to make love to pure goodness? Is a soul made of goodness? If so, Sherlock knows he does not possess one. How could a being so selfish possess something made of goodness? Sherlock is selfish; he is stealing this beautiful soul from the world. These eyes are his alone to dive into and swim in the knowledge that these eyes choose to stare at Sherlock. This soul chose a being without one to attach itself to. Sherlock wants to climb into John's skin and surround himself with the pure light that is John and John's soul. For if his soul took physical shape, it's medium would be light. If Sherlock were to own a soul, what would the medium be but darkness? The opposite of light and yet it's perfect companion, for one cannot exist without the other. Sherlock cannot exist without John. He bends, shapes, molds around John. Before John, Sherlock was darkness. John is light. John is pure goodness. John has a soul. Does Sherlock? It is undeserved. Is it? Sherlock saved John. John's light had dimmed. John was a glowing ember, and Sherlock struck a match to throw onto the kindle. No. John has a soul, Sherlock simply has to look into his eyes to prove it. John is the embodiment of a soul. If John's soul were to take physical shape, it would be light. If a soul were to take physical shape, it would be John. Such a gift should be protected. Such a treasure should be given the grandest pedestal with beautifully cut gems encrusted to reflect the light emanating from such a prize. Such a possession should be given the largest room in the most imposing palace to be shared with everyone and no one. John. John. John. He is everywhere, etched into every wall, every surface, every inch of Sherlock's skin. The world does not deserve, nor does Sherlock. This gift is a marvel, this soul is precious. This soul chose Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock. Does Sherlock have a soul? Does a soul grant a heart? Or does a heart grant a soul? Sherlock has a heart, he knows it now. Had. The heart belongs to John now. Does a heart grant a soul? It too is John's.


End file.
